


Breaking Tradition (Practically a Family Tradition)

by misscam



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-09
Updated: 2010-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 12:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscam/pseuds/misscam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is marrying Gwen today, and in so doing, making Elyan the brother-in-law of a king and what seems to be the most eligible bachelor in Albion. [Elyan/Elena, Arthur/Gwen]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Tradition (Practically a Family Tradition)

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an undetermined future. References to 3x06 and 3x13. Inspired by a comment **doyle_sb4** made in my LJ; thanks for the inspiration! Also many thanks to **clevermonikerr** for ever faithful beta work.

Breaking Tradition (Practically a Family Tradition)  
by **misscam**

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.

II

"So courageous, the knights of Camelot, I've always said..."

"Your sister is such a charming young woman. I am certain you two are very close..."

"Perhaps you would like to go for a walk one day, Sir Elyan..."

This must be what a deer feels like with a pack of wolves on its heels, Elyan decides. A prey, hunted by fast beasts who can't wait to bite into you – otherwise known as the noblewomen of Camelot and surrounding kingdoms.

And he's the prey. Oh, not by his own doing, he is pretty sure. Elyan has never had delusions of being a gift to women. Sure, there has been one or two he has caught the eye of, and once his sister caught him kissing the girl next door and wouldn't stop teasing him for it. But most of the time, women's gazes have passed over him and settled on something else.

That is changing. Arthur is marrying Gwen today, and in so doing, making Elyan the brother-in-law of a king. Now everyone is looking.

"Oh, Sir Elyan, you tease..."

"He wasn't teasing you, he was teasing me!"

He wasn't teasing anyone, Elyan thinks, but apparently these women thinks his talk about tempering iron was not in seriousness. (Why, he does not know. They did ask what he liked doing with his time.)

This is torture. This is cruel and unusual punishment. This is doom.

It doesn't help there is nothing else to look at during this ball. Arthur only has eyes for Gwen, Gwaine has already left with two women, Lancelot has left (looking nobly suffering), Percival is too engrossed in his task of guarding all the visiting royalty and Merlin is of no use at all, looking too moon-eyed at Gwen and Arthur both (almost as if he is getting married in the morning with them).

No, they have all left him in the trap, and Gwen even seems to find it amusing, smiling at him from across the room. Then mercifully, Arthur sneaks up on her to kiss her and diverts the attention of everyone in the room.

It is hard not to notice that the King of Camelot loves his bride-to-be very much. If the gazes would not reveal it, the kissing and touching certainly would. It's enough to make the court swoon or smile, depending on gender. (And sometimes not depending on gender at all.)

Elyan takes the opportunity to make a tactical retreat, otherwise known as fleeing. He ducks out of the room, around two corners (in case they give chase) and finally leans against a wall, exhaling.

Being what seems to be the most eligible bachelor in Albion feels a lot like mortal danger, he concludes.

"Hi," a voice says, and he spins around to see a woman sitting in the alcove. Fair-haired, she is dressed finely, but he can't remember being introduced to her, so perhaps she is the escort of a noblewoman rather than noble herself.

"I am sorry," he says formally. "I did not mean to disturb your reverie."

She shrugs; it's a strangely endearing gesture. "I was merely taking a break from what everyone expects me to be. It is rather stifling sometimes, is it not?"

"Yes," he agrees, and she smiles at him. It is a smile he finds impossible not to return.

"Elena," she says, holding out a hand, but not upturned to be kissed.

"I am Elyan," he says, shaking her hand. She seems pleased at that, as if she is used to people doing otherwise.

"Are you visiting for the wedding?" he asks, sitting down beside her.

"I am," she confirms. "Arthur invited me. It was very nice of him, all things considered."

"He is very nice," Elyan agrees, remembering his own elevated status. "Arthur is a good person. Sorry, King Arthur."

"It is hard to avoid being defined by your station," she says with a quick smile. "You should call him Arthur. I think he likes that."

"Gwen does it all the time," he says. "I think it is part of what he loves in her."

"He looks to be in love this time," Elena says wistfully and a touch sadly. He looks strangely at her. "I mean, I am not jealous of her. She seems wonderful and I think she loves him too. I wished that for him. I am just sad I haven't gotten my wish yet."

"What was your wish?" he asks, her eyes catching the light as she tilts her head towards him.

"To be loved as I deserve," she says.

"I am sure you will be," he says without thinking, and she looks at him with eyes that seem almost bronze.

"Thank you, Elyan," she says, kissing him briefly on the cheek. He cannot help but lean forward as she pulls back, following, and then he is kissing her. Softly at first, brushing his lips against hers almost feather-light, or as near to he can manage. That does not seem enough for her, as she parts her lips and hooks her hands around his neck.

They are both startled as two more shapes stumble into the alcove, looking to be in the middle of a rather romantic interlude. As he stares, he realises to his horror that he knows both of them.

"Elyan!" Gwen says, and he stares stupidly at her. It is Gwen, and Arthur, still with a hand rather indecently pushing up Gwen's shirt. Not that she is any better, with a hand around his neck and her lips parted and slightly swollen as her gaze moves to Elena. "Princess Elena!"

Elena makes a slightly embarrassed wave, and Elyan stares at her as if it is the first time he has seen her.

"Princess?!" he repeats. She shrugs. Oh. Oh, bollocks and brittle steel.

He was wrong previously, Elyan realises.

That wasn't doom. This is.

II

After Elyan has made hurried and poor excuses, and Elena has made slightly more elegant but still silly excuses, Arthur leans his forehead against Gwen's and laughs until she can't help but join in.

"Arthur!" she protests after a while. "This is not funny!"

"I beg to differ," he says, brushing his nose a little against hers.

"She is a princess!"

"I was a prince," he points out. "This is practically a family tradition for your family."

She looks sternly at him, but her lips starting turning upwards and when she gives in and smiles, he kisses her firmly. She leans against the pillar, kissing him enthusiastically while his fingers brush against her flesh and makes her buckle slightly.

"Arthur!" she protests again, her cheeks blazing. "We should be returning to the ball. They'll notice we're gone."

"Guinevere," he says. "I want them to. Tomorrow, we have a lot of traditions to follow. Tonight..."

"Tonight?" she repeats, watching him through lowered eyelids.

"Tonight we should break a few more."

II

Elyan is not entirely surprised when Elena finds him in the corner of the ballroom, but he is rather surprised how she manages to scatter all the noblewomen surrounding him with just a look.

There is power in her too, he realises. She merely has a care with how she wields it.

"Did you not realise who I was?" she asks softly. He shakes his head, and she smiles.

"I would not have behaved as I did if I knew," he says stiffly.

"I thought perhaps you were akin to your sister," she says. "That you looked for the person and not the station."

"You are a princess, Elena. I am the son of a blacksmith."

"A princess is merely the daughter of a king. Yet you are more than a son and I more than a daughter. What did you think of me before, when we sat together?"

"That I liked you," he says hurriedly, biting his lip when he realises what he has said.

"Come on," she says softly, holding out a hand. "Would you do me the honour of this dance, Sir Elyan?"

"I believe it is traditional for the male to ask," he says, but he takes her hand nevertheless.

"I have never been good with tradition," she confides, and he realises he was wrong. Her eyes are not bronze; they are amber, and he's never known quite how to master that material.

He'll have to learn, then.

II

In the morning, Arthur marries Gwen and kisses her with untraditional enthusiasm during the ceremony.

In the afternoon, Elyan and Elena go riding; she doesn't let him win, not even on the second go.

Wouldn't want to get too traditional, after all.

FIN


End file.
